


Collaborative Discipline Between General Officers

by gloss



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Co-Generals, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Nonnies Made Me Do It, Post-TRoS, Reunion, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:19:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22220164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: Finn reunites with Poe and finds him sorely in need of some stress relief.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 6
Kudos: 139





	Collaborative Discipline Between General Officers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hegemony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hegemony/gifts).



> the kernel of this was posted in response to an anonymous prompt for _spanking your boss_ / @hegemony's fingerprints are all over this in terms of meta and characterization ♥ 

"Go to bed," Chewie tells Finn after they hurry across the tarmac. They arrived, undetected, in an anonymous shuttle. If prior experience is any guide, their luck should have run out half a system ago, yet Finn cracks the lock on the blast door at the back of the port facility on his second try. 

The spaceport is provincial, to put it kindly, featuring just two outbuildings. The larger is for cargo; a small, awkward wing of that accepts passengers. Finn and Chewie have circled around the larger building to find this second auxiliary warehouse. It's dark and silent and looks like it hasn't been used in a few generations. Two small viewports, a welded-over front door, and this heavily padlocked blast door at the back are its only means of entrance.

"Not tired," Finn replies. It's true — he's alert and wired — and a lie — he's been near exhaustion since they left the _Finalizer_ , years ago now.

They creep through the storeroom to the freight elevator and ride it downward. Finn's eyes adjust gradually to the pervasive gloom.

"Bed," Chewie tells him and jabs him in the chest. "Not sleep. Reunion."

"Yeah, okay." Finn steps off the elevator first, checks the passage, then moves aside for Chewie. He's momentarily overcome by the force of a daydream as it arrives, called into being by Chewie's instruction. Reunion with Poe, in bed, silver light around them, the blankets warm with sleep. His mouth is soft against Finn's, his hands strong and insistent. "Will do."

Chewie grumbles as he makes for his bunk on the next tier below. Finn doesn't have to listen closely to know he's complaining about young people never taking good advice, freely and generously given.

Below this shabby warehouse, what used to be known as the Resistance has established another headquarters. Finn visits when he can, in secret, from the more public HQ on Kef Bir. There's yet another base, in the Core, that D'Acy and Statura oversee. In addition to making them relatively accessible from most points in the galaxy, splitting up their personnel is supposed to give the impression of strength. The sense being conveyed is that they have more than enough energy and resources to maintain multiple locations.

After Chewie pads away, Finn doesn't bother checking their bunk. It's Poe's bunk, technically, but there's never another assigned to Finn. The specific closeness of their relationship is a terribly-kept secret, so poorly maintained that Finn has no idea why anyone still bothers pretending.

Poe calls all this pretense the Organa Gambit: look impeccable and unruffled, able to draw on unseen reserves of glamour and fortitude, even as the enemy annihilates your planet. There's a lot to be said for this strategy, Finn is the first to admit.

He's just a little sick of all the separation, the loneliness that comes with it. Holo-chats are terrible substitutes for anything like real connection.

Rather than heading for the bunk tiers, Finn rides the elevator back to the first sub-basement, where the communications equipment shares space with three ad-hoc offices.

Finn finds Poe still at work. These days, Poe is tense, always. His speech is curt and the double-wrinkle between his brows has deepened noticeably, even on the shitty encrypted holo signal they use.

Here tonight, he works alone under a single dim emergency light. 

"Hey," Finn says as he approaches.

Poe makes a vague gesture with one hand, both acknowledging Finn and asking him to hold on. He's got his shoulders up halfway to his ears. Stubble glints along his jaw.

"You're early." Poe doesn't look up as he grabs another datapad.

"Missed you."

Poe does look at him now, sudden smile and dark eyes hollowed by the light. "Hell, yeah."

"Need any help?"

"No, just checking.... I got this." Poe is mumbling now, to himself. Finn can nearly feel himself physically fade from significance. It's not personal, that's the thing. "Supply chains need..."

"Put the datapads down," Finn says. "Look at me."

"In a minute."

They used to be stretched thin. Now, with a resurgence of trooper loyalists across two refugee colonies, they're past strained and into shredded territory.

"Poe."

"If we went to half-rations," Poe mutters, "the surplus might be enough—"

"General Dameron." Finn speaks as firmly as he can.

Poe finally meets his eyes. His jaw works. "Sir?"

"I don't outrank you."

"You could," Poe says. 

"If anything, your seniority makes you my boss."

Snorting, Poe shakes his head. "Who knows? We're making it all up anyway."

Finn has a thousand thoughts about that, but they're best saved for another time. "All right. So stand when you're addressed."

"Finn..." The mulish jut to Poe's chin and squint in his eyes return.

"Now, Dameron."

He must get the intonation just right, because in no time at all, Poe's on his feet, hands behind his back, glaring at Finn. He'll obey, but he'll also make damn sure you know he doesn't want to.

Finn's mind veers wildly before narrowing to a perfect focus. Every line in Poe's posture is defiant, temporary, _grudging_. His hair is wild, his usual restless energy caught and thrumming.

"Give me your belt."

Poe's eyes flicker over Finn in the moment he takes to comply. Finally, when Finn clears his throat, Poe yanks open his belt and trousers, then pulls the belt free.

"Leave the trousers open." 

At that, Poe's hands still and drop away.

"Sir." Poe never breaks his stare. He hands over the belt with a curl of his lip.

"Incorrigible," Finn announces, digging deep to remember some of the standard accusations in disciplinary reprogramming. "Insubordinate. Independent."

"Sir," Poe says. He sounds breathless. "Sir, yes, sir."

"Bend over. Hands on the table."

Poe hesitates, eyes moving quickly back and forth, searching for something in Finn's expression. He must find it, because he then turns and obeys. His trousers shift down his ass, which is bare. The blocky muscles bunch and relax as Finn looks him over. He knows every centimeter of Poe's body just as well as he knows the man's vocal tones and the antic brilliance of his mind. Nevertheless, familiarity can't dull his interest in everything about Poe.

"Regulations would require undergarments."

"Regulations would require a lot of things," Poe replies. "Guess that's why we don't have any."

They _are_ making all of this up. There's so much uncertainty and improvisation, every hour of every day. They all depend on Poe's dedication and resourcefulness more than is fair or healthy. Finn has tried to tell him that, remind him how much he is loved and respected, but maybe what Poe needs just now is something else. Maybe — definitely — they both need that something else.

"Insolent, too," Finn says.

"Always," Poe says. He glances over his shoulder, brows up, grin narrowing his eye, but sobers almost immediately. 

"Intractable. Impossible."

He doubles the belt and brings it down on his opposite palm. At the sound, Poe jerks, then catches himself. His skin looks washed-out in this weak light, but even so, the tremors across it run stark.

Finn needs to feel the contact.

Finn slaps him across both buttocks with his open palm, then again, quickly, before Poe can say anything. Poe's breath comes rapidly, his lower back dipping as he raises his ass to meet Finn's hand. The skin warms and flushes; each slap makes him huff out part of a squeal. Finn finds a rapid, unpredictable rhythm, working from cheek to cheek and across the crack. 

When Finn stops, they're both breathing hard. Poe's ass is dark and trembling and Finn's palm numb-hot. Sweat smears the small of Poe's back and Finn's dick strains against his trouser fasteners.

He can smell the arousal and need radiating off Poe, hot and damp as his own, just as _home_ as anything else they share. He tests the flush on Poe's ass with his fingernails and sees the scratch flare white before sinking away. One arm around Poe's waist, opposite hand in Poe's hair, and Finn pulls him back against his body. Poe's neck and back bow as he fights to twist around; Finn lets him struggle until Poe finds Finn's mouth with his own. At the same time, Finn wraps his hand around Poe's shaft and strokes firmly, quickly, a little faster than their breathing, so when Poe comes, he moans into the kiss and spills over Finn's hand just as his tongue melts in Finn's mouth.

Poe's shaking, clammy, as Finn gets him turned around. They're face to face finally and Poe winces and gasps as he sits on the edge of the desk. He pulls Finn in, arms around his waist, legs around Finn's, and renews the kiss with more precision and sharper depth.

"Inspired," he murmurs against Finn's mouth. "Innovative, even."

"Those, too," Finn tells him, pushing into Poe's sweaty palm. 

"Indecent!" Poe replies after a long, wheezy moment. He nudges Finn back to make room so he can get down on his knees in the narrow space between Finn and desk. He looks up at Finn expectantly. 

"Do it," Finn tells him, hands on Poe's skull, dick jumping against Poe's rasping stubble and questing mouth. His palm throbs in time with his heart, with his shaft, with everything he has.

Afterward, they don't bother returning to the bunk, but wrap up in three emergency foil tarps on the floor behind Poe's desk. It's right over the generator room, Poe notes, so it's actually one of the warmest spots in the complex. They share a length of koyo-melon leather that Finn brought Poe and kiss until numb. Finn dozes off with his mouth against Poe's chest, Poe's arm around him, the light from the datapad in his hands spilling over them both.


End file.
